


Couples Weekend

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Annoying Ron, F/M, Fake Dating, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Smut, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-11-02 15:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20781824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Sneaking away for a weekend in the woods with your fake boyfriend and your best friends is bound to have its hiccups, but no one could prepare for what this weekend has in store.





	1. Chapter 1

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MCAL! If you have read any of my works this year, you know that my sweet MCal is just as integral to me making words as is my laptop. There aren’t enough wonderful things to say about my Alpha-extrordinare. You feed my muse all the sweet stuff you know she likes and keep me accountable, keep me pushing and striving to be better and above all, you keep the complete joy in fandom alive! **

**Her birthday is in just a few short days and I’ve got a little short story ready for you! You’ll have one chapter today, one tomorrow and the final two on the big day! I adore you endlessly and hope the days leading up to your birthday are as wonderful as you are. **

**Without further adieu-- some bed-sharing, mutual pining, fake dating shenanigans. Just for you. -LK**

XXXXX

He stared at her for exactly five beats, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he tried to discern if the witch was absolutely fucking with him. She had to be. 

“Malfoy?” She said his name almost like a whine. “Would you just…  _ say something?”  _

_ “ _ You’re fucking with me.” It wasn’t what he meant to say, but it was certainly appropriate. 

“It’s one weekend, and I swear to everything that is magical, I will do all your reports for a week—” His features fell, an indelicate snort escaping him. “Fine!  _ A month. _ An entire month of reports.”

“Why are you lot doing this anyway? Slytherins wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. It’s so… well, it’s so  _ Gryffindor _ .” 

“It doesn’t matter, but I can’t very well get out of it now. I’d meant it just to be close friends, but of course Harry wouldn’t go with Pansy; then Neville just  _ had _ to invite Luna, which was fine. But then Ron—”

_ Ahhh, yes. _ Now he understood. A nasty twist of jealousy coiled around his lungs, and he abruptly returned to the forms on his desk. “So that’s it. Your ex is bringing his arm candy, and you need a stud for yourself? I’m flattered, Granger. Truly.”

He spared a brief glance up at her. Why was it that every time her cheeks pinkened like that his stomach roiled delightfully? She shifted nervously in her place, tucking a curl behind her ear and crinkling her nose in an adorable little show of frustration. 

“You’re the person that will piss Ron off the most, and if he’s going to be traipsing his little French tart around, then I’m a big enough person to admit that I want to do the same.”

“Wait,” Draco interjected, leaning swiftly forward, “would that make me the tart?” 

Stomping her foot into the cheap carpet of his office, she pulled a face, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Will you go or not? It’s one weekend where you put your arm around my shoulder and sit with me at meals and pretend you don’t loathe the ground I walk on.”

Pursing his lips, Draco canted his head back and forth a few times petulantly. He’d already decided he would, had decided it as soon as the words had floated over her tongue and into existence. Draco Malfoy was many things, but he was not stupid, and that’s exactly what he’d have to be to pass up a weekend on Hermione Granger’s arm. But he liked watching her squirm — would  _ love _ to watch her squirm in many ways — but there was something particularly enjoyable about riling her up. 

“ _ Malfoy!” _

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll do it. Send me details later; I’m busy.” There was a long moment of silence, and he lifted his gaze to hers. She looked… shocked, her lips barely parted and her brow puckered. “What?”

She blinked a few times, coming back to reality and shaking her head. “Nothing. Just… thanks, Malfoy. I owe you one.”

He watched her go, the sides of his throat tightening as her hips sashayed from his office. She peeked one final time over her shoulder as his heart skipped exactly two beats. It meant nothing; he knew that.  _ He knew that. _ But even after years of her ignoring every damn signal he’d dropped, years of her dating that stupid buffoon and getting her heart shredded into pieces… he found it was still all too easy to hope. What a ridiculous thing, hope. 

Of all the things he knew with any varying degree of certainty, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no way that Hermione Granger was interested in him any further than a pawn to make her ex jealous. 

XXXXX

Grinning, Hermione rushed down the hall of the department and ducked quickly into her tiny closet-esque office. Pressing the door shut, she rested her forehead against the back of the door and tried to remember how to  _ breathe. _

Everything she had told Malfoy had been painfully true. She really did want to bring a date to the cabin this weekend because seeing Ron with Gabrielle Delacour on his arm was sickening enough without being the only person attending the weekend stag. Things between them had ended amicably enough; there was no burning effigies or screaming matches for their neighbors to hear. They just… faded to black. As easy and complicated as that. 

Then, when Fleur and Bill started having kids, Fleur’s baby sister started hanging around, except… she wasn’t a baby anymore. She was the spitting image of her sister but with a softer disposition and, thankfully, a softer accent. And the first time that she batted her bright blue eyes Ronald’s way with a murmured,  _ “Did I ever properly ‘zank you for helping Harry that year?”  _ it had been over. 

They fell so quickly and easily in love in front of Hermione’s eyes that she hadn’t had time to wrap her head around it. They existed in each other’s negative spaces, always tangled limbs and stolen kisses. It was stomach churning. 

And with each passing month, she became more and more painfully single. Maybe she shouldn’t care; after all, she had her career and her cat. She had a lovely little flat on the posh side of London, and on the weekends she was free to volunteer or browse the bookshelves as long as she wanted without being bothered to attend  _ another _ Quidditch match or meet their friends at the pub. But if she was honest, she often got lonely. So lonely, in fact, that she had begun taking lunch meetings just so she didn’t have to eat alone. 

Often with co-workers and, more often than not, with Malfoy. At first it had been cantankerous at best, but slowly their jabs turned playful and their laughs more genuine. Now, she found herself lurking around the corner with a sad little salad from the cafe, waiting until he summoned her in. 

It wasn’t an easy friendship, if one could call it that at all, but these days he was a constant in her life, one that she sometimes found herself idly (read: actively) dreaming about taking to the next level. She wondered what it’d be like to be kissed by him like one of those girls he was always taking out to fancy dinner dates and charity events. Wondered what it would be like to be the girl on his arm and shown off for the world to see… it was  _ ridiculous _ . 

She was Hermione-bloody-Granger after all; she pined for no man. Well… okay, there was a  _ little _ pining. Barely there. Truly. 

And now he was heading to the cabin with her as her… date? Pretend boyfriend? With a groan, Hermione lifted her forehead and swiftly banged it against the back of the door for good measure. Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?

XXXXX

He’d received his requested details from Granger promptly that evening. Apparently they were headed to some large wooded sanctuary, although from what she said it wasn’t going to be some hole-in-the-wall shack. The house boasted a gourmet kitchen, two balconies, and an impressive view. Hell, even if he wasn’t going as Granger’s arm candy, it still sounded like an alright weekend.

He couldn’t put his finger on when things had begun to shift for him, when she stopped being the bushy haired swot and began being the women she was now. It had happened so gradually that when realization had finally dawned on him, it had slammed into him with all the force of a well-timed bludger_. _

Bag ready to go, he stepped through the Floo into her flat. “Granger?”

“Be right out!” Her voice carried from the back of her flat, and he unceremoniously dropped his canvas bag next to the Floo and began poking around. It was nicer than he’d originally thought, but still full of things that made it quintessentially Granger. A stack of books on the end table and a cup of half-drank tea placed precariously on top. A knitted blanket thrown haphazardly over the back of the sofa and a visible dent in the cushions showed her favorite spot. An ugly, oversized cat snoozing in the light of the window lifted its ratty head to offer a delicate  _ hiss  _ in his direction. 

“Sorry about that. Ready?” Draco turned and against his volition, his breath caught painfully. Merlin, she looked good. Her denims kissed every square inch of her legs, and her skin, still sun-kissed from summer, was complimented by her chunky cream sweater. Her curls were swept up over one shoulder, but none of that compared to the way her lips curled up in a friendly smile upon seeing him or the colour of her cheeks when he smirked back at her. 

He swallowed the knot coiled deep in his throat. “Ready.”

XXXXX

“ _ Hellooo _ ? Anyone here?”” Granger’s voice rose in a happy greeting as she stomped the wet leaves from her boots and left the door open for him. With a small shrug, she turned back towards him. “Guess we’re the first. We’re up here.” 

Draco followed her up the stairs, through a secondary sitting room, and down a long hall of doors. “I don’t know if I told you, but it’s actually my birthday this weekend. Not that it’s that big of a deal, but I did claim the master suite. There um… well, you see, the house is full, so we’ll have to bunk together, if that’s alright?”

A flash of unwelcome and unfamiliar anxiety unfurled in his chest as she pushed open the opulent door to a large master suite. Perhaps Draco should have asked more questions… she’d mentioned throwing an arm over her shoulder and sitting with her at meals, but he wasn’t sure after that. 

Inside the room, there was a massive bed with four posters, rich woven tapestries hung around each one, and countless pillows rested at the head. A long chaise stood next to two chairs and a small bar, all framed by a wall of windows looking out over the wooded countryside and a private balcony. 

“This is some set-up, Granger. Must be some birthday.” Draco spoke from the corner of his mouth as he dropped his bag on the edge of the bed and proceeded to walk around the room. Of course he knew it was her birthday. It was indeed a big one, too. Her thirtieth, and the fact that she had, in some ways, chosen to spend it with him did not escape him. 

“Well,” she said, opening the wide glass double doors to the balcony and letting in a gust of fresh, September air. “It was this or a birthday party. So a weekend away, mourning my lost youth and welcoming my life as a spinster, seemed favorable. Keep my shame hidden and all that.” Her words were light, but her tone was not; they were laced with a sadness that he couldn’t quite understand. 

After all, she was still fit. She’d always had lovely features, once she’d learned to tame her hair and her teeth were of a more reasonable size, but there was something about her now... 

He approached her quietly, standing just behind her until he could feel her sweater brushing against his chest. Dipping his lips to her ear, he smirked as her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m not so sure, Granger. You might still have a ways before you’re relegated to a spinster. Surely there are a few steps before then. One of those older ladies who lures younger men into their bed or something.”

Her chuckle shook through him, and a genuine grin spread over her lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re twenty-nine. Talk to me in June.” 

“There’s the birthday gi—Hermione?” There was a loud thud behind them, a duffle being dropped unceremoniously to the wood floor. Granger turned just barely to look up at him over her shoulder, and something about the shade of milk chocolate in her gaze made him gulp. 

“Ready?” she breathed quietly, so lowly only he could hear. He nodded. “Hello, boys,” she said with a happy smile, reaching down to thread her fingers with his and—holy shite, he was in deep,  _ deep _ trouble. 

XXXXX

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” Ron spat, his face turning a hideous shade of chartreuse as He brushed past Harry, who was standing with a gaping jaw. 

“Don’t be rude, Ronald. I told you both I was bringing someone—”

“ _ Someone! _ Since when are you and Malfoy—” Ron sputtered, his eyes darting over them and settling on their interlocked fingers. “Holding hands!” 

From just over her shoulder, Malfoy snorted, and she realized that she’d made a grievous error. There had been no discussion about the parameters of this weekend, and she had no idea what to tell her friends. A very serious oversight. 

“We’re doing more than holding hands, Weasel.” Malfoy’s voice was exactly how she remembered him in their youth: haughty and smug with no remorse for others. It wasn’t the Malfoy she knew now at all. “Now, be polite and say hello.” 

“Hermione,” Harry said after a small clearing of his throat. “Could we maybe talk a minute in the hall?”

Levying a tired sigh, Hermione released Malfoy’s hand and offered a small, apologetic smile before crossing the massive room and joining her friends in the hall. “Where are Gabrielle and Pansy?”

“Downstairs,” Harry said without missing a beat. “Do you care to tell us what’s going on here? We knew you were friends with the prat… but you can imagine our surprise.” 

“I should’ve mentioned it, but well, it’s rather…  _ new.”  _ Hermione grimaced at her ill-formed lie. 

Ron made a gargling noise that she recognized well from their time together; it was the noise he made whenever he wasn’t getting his way. She’d heard it often in the three years they spent as a half-hearted couple. “Well, why did you need to bring someone ‘new’ on your birthday weekend? Especially when that new someone is Malfoy?”

Heat coloured Hermione’s cheeks, her lips pursing tightly together. “Yes, I did. I wanted to spend my birthday with the people that mean the most to me, and that includes Malfoy. So run along and claim your rooms; there is a chef with the house, and they’ll have dinner ready at seven.” Turning on her heel, she made to march back into her suite, but she stopped and turned harshly over her shoulder once more. “I expect you  _ both _ to be on your best behavior. Just as I was when  _ Gabbi _ and  _ Pans _ joined our little circle. Understood?” 

With a quiet grumble, they both nodded and reclaimed their bags, making their way back down the hall. Truth be told, she’d been far from pleasant when both women joined their ensemble, but that was neither here nor there. Closing the door behind her, her breath caught at Malfoy laid out casually on the bed, his arms folded behind his hair as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“How did the pricks take it?” 

“Malfoy!” she admonished with a lighthearted chuckle. “They took it just fine. Not that I gave them a choice in the matter… but the two of us  _ should _ talk. I know you’re doing me a favor, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I hope I didn’t… earlier, I mean, by holding your hand. I was just… solidarity and all that.” She loosened a small laugh, her face screwing up on one side.

Something flashed over Malfoy’s features, and before she could name it, he sat abruptly up, facing away from her. “You’d have a hard time making me uncomfortable, Granger. But we should lay out some ground rules, you’re right.” 

Hermione swore she saw his shoulders tighten as he carded a hand through his platinum locks. But rules were good. Rules set up boundaries, and Hermione could deal with boundaries. Without them she was far too tempted to crawl up this man like a tree. 

“Rules,” she agreed with a firm nod. “We’ll have to have some varying degree of physical contact... to keep up the ruse, that is. So are you okay with holding hands?”

Malfoy laughed darkly before pushing to stand and turning on her with an all too familiar smirk. “I am. Don’t worry about the physical aspects of this little charade; I’m well versed in the art of conning people to believe I’m dating someone. The  _ Prophet _ has been eating it up for years. What’s our back story?”

Interesting.  _ Very _ interesting. All those dates… 

“I mean, they know you and I have become…  _ friendly. _ A few weeks ago we decided to try our hand at dating?” Hermione offered with a shrug, ignoring that niggling feeling that she was experiencing about how desperately she wished this story to be true. 

“Brilliant. So, I, in all my suave, debonair ways, swept you off your feet one late night at the office. You were powerless under my charm and quickly fell madly in love with me—”

Hermione sucked in a harsh, disbelieving breath. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound anything like me. If anything, it was  _ I _ who made the first move and  _ you _ who fell helplessly in love with me. I can be quite charming… if I set my sights on it.” 

“ _ Riiiiight _ ,” Malfoy drawled. “Well, the devil is in the details, Granger. And since it is I who agreed to help you, we will go with me being the sauve one and you being the starry-eyed one. Makes more sense. Have we had sex?”

Spit caught in the back of her throat, and Hermione began hacking and sputtering as she failed spectacularly at regaining her composure. 

“It’s important. People who have seen each other naked act differently around each other.” 

Fanning herself to cool the heat pooling in her cheeks, her eyes rounded in his direction. “Why does anyone in this house need to know one way or the other?”

“You forget that I’ve slept with someone in this house,” Malfoy deadpanned. “Or did my sordid history with Potter’s witch slip your mind?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as a soft hiss paired with colourful expletives slipped over her tongue. She’d not  _ really _ forgotten about Pansy—who could?—but she didn’t account for the Slytherin’s watchful eye, either. Pansy Parkinson remained to this day the biggest pain in her arse imaginable. Pansy was far more understanding about her friendship with Harry than Ginny ever was, but she was meddling and cold…  _ calculating.  _

_ “ _ Fine. I guess we haven’t, since that’s the truth,” Hermione responded flippantly and scoffed when Draco’s features flattened in annoyance. “What now?”

“It just seems unlikely that I’d be seeing a witch for several weeks and not fucked her yet—”

“ _ Malfoy!” _

“ _ What _ ? It’s true! But it’s fine. It’ll drive Pansy crazy, which is always a plus for me, since she will think it’s annoying I never waited long on her.” A wicked smirk tugged at his handsome features as he crossed the room towards the small bar and poured himself a firewhisky. “Anything for you?”

She sighed and joined him. “I’ll take the same.” 

Malfoy chuckled and handed her the first drink before pouring his own. “Cheers, Granger. To making people believe the unbelievable.” 

There was something about the set to his mouth or the tightening of his eyes as he spoke that struck Hermione. With a gulp, she lifted her glass. “To the unbelievable.” 

XXXXX

**Until Tomorrow! **

**Mega thanks to my love and beta, Ravenslight. If you aren’t reading her WIP Queen of Swords, lawdddd. You are missing out. It’s as stunning as she is, and that’s saying something. **

  
  



	2. Two

“Draco Malfoy, as I live and breathe.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed as Pansy, fixed with a bright smile, crossed the foyer and kissed both of Malfoy’s cheeks with the side of her mouth. “It’s been far too long! I just saw Cissy two days ago, and she didn’t mention you and Hermione had started anything up.” 

At that Pansy turned her feline attention on Hermione, her lips curling up in a Cheshire grin. “And happy birthday, Hermione! Thirty!”

“Hi, Pansy,” Hermione breathed with all the enthusiasm of a salted slug. “How have you been? Work treating you alright?”

“Quite. Passes the time, anyway.” 

“I has ‘ze champagne!” Hermione pulled a face as the graceful blonde of Ron Weasley’s dreams sashayed into the sitting room, a tray of full champagne flutes perched on her palm with ease. “For ‘ze birsday girl, first.” 

With only the slightest of tight scowls, Hermione took a glass and mumbled her most humble of thanks before draining it in a single gulp. 

Gabrielle made an unnecessary twirl, letting her circle skirt flit around her knees in a theatrical little move. At this, Hermione fell into an arm chair and made no attempt to stifle her eye roll. Malfoy chuckled and lightly squeezed her shoulder.

“Panzy?” 

“None for me, thanks,” Pansy said with a demure little smirk and returned to Harry’s side where she suspiciously nestled into the crook of his arm and stared up at her beau. There was something most definitely happening and although it seemed obvious enough, her brain struggled to make the connections until Malfoy spoke from next to her, having found the drink cart and handing her a firewhisky.

“Pansy Parkinson passing up a drink? Never thought I’d see the day…” he said as he swallowed a generous gulp of amber liquor. 

“_ Oh! _ Panzy! Are you ‘aving a baby?”

Hermione’s fingers clenched around the crystal glass in her hand, and Malfoy’s hand came down again on her shoulder. Pansy let out a girlish giggle and tucked her face into Harry’s chest before resting her hand on her belly and grinning back at the room. 

It was Harry who spoke, but it didn’t help the odd feeling in Hermione’s gut. “Well, we didn’t want to announce it on Hermione’s birthday weekend, and we haven’t told Neville and Luna yet… but yes! Pansy and I are having a baby this spring!”

A high pitched, shrill shriek filled the room as Gabrielle thrust the silver tray into Hermione’s lap, toppling over a glass of champagne and running to Pansy’s side. Laying flat palms on her perfectly taut belly, Gabrielle and Pansy gushed over the miracle of life now growing in Pansy’s tummy. 

It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t happy for them… it was just that it didn’t make sense. It should. But in Hermione’s mind, she struggled to make the connections. Harry… Pansy… baby. Simple enough. 

Malfoy cleared his throat and woke her from her trance. When she blinked up at the room, she saw Harry watching her with a careful eye, and she realized she’d waited too long. She fixed a bright smile on her face and lifted the tray of champagne off her lap and onto the side table so she could wrap her very best friend in a hug. 

“Congratulations, Harry. You’ll be the best dad,” she whispered into his ear, squeezing him tighter to her as she fought off the tears fighting to climb up her throat. “And you! Pansy!” 

Words failed her spectacularly, so she simply moved her arms around Pansy and gave her a light hug and a false smile. When she pulled back, she kept the witch at arm’s distance; she studied the happy tears welling in her eyes and the tentative smile on her lips, and Hermione found that she didn’t have it in her not to be happy. For all the grief Pansy caused, she repaid it in joy for Harry. 

“I’m really happy for you both! The first baby—Merlin, that child will be spoiled rotten!” Hermione felt a tear slip over her cheek and banished it quickly with the back of her hand. 

“What’d I miss?” Ron’s voice boomed around the room, and as if drawn to her side, he nestled Gabrielle into her side and kissed the top of her head. 

Staring at her friends tangled in each others embraces, Hermione starkly felt the air around her. Her heart felt like a used towel, wrung out too many times and now had one final rough go of it. Warm hands found her hips, pulling her backward and then impossibly soft lips pressed into her temple. _ Malfoy. _

“Want to go for a walk before dinner?” 

Hermione settled into his embrace and managed a look up at him, hoping to all hell that her gratefulness was evident in a single look. “Sure.” 

XXXXX

Draco had no i-bloody-dea what in the fuck he was doing. All that nonsense about getting the journalists from _ Witch Weekly _ and the _ Prophet _ to believe he was an eligible bachelor around town... well that was rather easy, wasn’t it? He paid for dinner once a week and got roaring drunk before sending the tart on her way. And on all those occasions, he’d never once felt for one of them what he did for Granger. 

The forlorn look in her eyes was so apparent that he wondered how everyone else in the room seemed to miss it. But Merlin, she felt warm and soft against his body and the way she looked at him had almost been enough for him to fall to his knees and just tell the witch how hopelessly in love he was with her. But Hermione Granger was no fool; she had to have picked up on his many, _ many _ advances throughout the last several years and simply decided that he was not the one for her. What could a bloke do?

Making their way out the front door, they ran into Longbottom and Looney, who each gave him a curious glare in turn, before turning down a small path in the woods. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Once out of sight from the house, Draco begrudgingly dropped his arm from her shoulders and fed his curiosity by peering out the side of his eye at her. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and he was sure she was going to worry a hole in her lip the way she was gnawing at it. 

“Pansy will be a good mum,” he offered quietly, then immediately grimaced. He was shite at this. “I mean, hopefully. She’ll have an elf, at the very least.” 

Granger’s brow puckered, and she let out a heavy breath, staring out at the crisp autumn colouring the forest’s leaves. “I have no doubt. It’s just— it doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake of her head. “Merlin, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. Maybe it’s just the big birthday, yeah?”

Draco opened his mouth, desperate to say more but managed only a simple, “Yeah.” 

XXXXX

Dinner passed without much fanfare; Granger stayed surprisingly quiet considering it was a gathering to celebrate her birthday, but Draco followed suit and kept quiet by her side. Pansy and the French twit prattled on about prams and baby names and Granger, bless her, managed to nod along and hum when necessary. 

Looney and Longbottom were so lost in each other’s embraces that Draco wondered if maybe she _ could _ see creatures he couldn’t, and maybe they were swimming in Longbottom’s beady little eyes. 

The other two Gryffindor boys went on and on about Quidditch, which would usually spark Draco’s interest to no end but in this circumstance made him frown in their general direction. It felt so odd that no one noticed her when she was all he ever noticed. 

Dinner was quite good and as the plates were cleared, they retired to the sprawling sitting room. An entire wall of floor to ceiling windows showcased the brilliant landscape and the starry sky-scape outside, and a fire roared in a large hearth amidst a semi-circle of sofas and armchairs. 

Weasley poured himself into the largest of the armchairs, and the French tartlet curled in his lap. The other couples sat on the plush sofa near the fire and snuggled against each other in the light of the flames. Merlin, no wonder Granger hadn’t wanted to attend stag. 

Hermione herself sat prim and proper, eyeing him nervously from the centre of the chaise, and it did something completely surreal to his chest. An angry part of him just wanted it to be real, wanted her to want him in the way the other idiots in this room wanted each other. But Draco Malfoy was a smart man. He knew to take advantage of every opportunity, and when he sat primly next to her, he could feel her stiffen under the scrutiny. 

He chuckled then and threw an arm around the back of the sofa and nudged her into his side. She fit there like a missing piece, like he’d been working at this particular puzzle for so fucking long he couldn’t think straight anymore, and then she just nestled into the missing spot because she’d been meant there all along. The hand draped across the back of the couch curled upwards and pushed the curls from her temple and he dared a kiss to her forehead, relishing in the way she softened into his touch. She turned to stare up at him, eyes round and caught her lip between her teeth. 

Weasley, being the uncouth prat that he was, cleared his throat loudly, and Granger jumped. _ Bastard. _“Should we play a game? 

“Oh, Draco!” Pansy cooed from her corner of the couch, Potter rubbing her feet in a display of sickening affection. “What’s the game we used to play in the common room? Remember, you’d say something and then people had to drink?”

Draco snorted and shook his head. “Not happening, Pansy. Besides, you can’t drink. Gives you an unfair advantage, of which I never like to give you.” 

“Oh, you’re such a spoil sport. One round! It’ll be fun!” Pansy whined, which for some reason earned her a kiss from Potter. 

“I’ve got Bertie Botts!” Ron exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box of candy. 

“Why in the fuck do you have child’s candy in your pocket, Weasley?” Draco sneered, moving his hand to rest on Granger’s hip. The gesture was innocuous enough, but when her own tiny palm moved to his knee, her fingers curling around his thigh, he had to adjust his seat to hide the semi he was suddenly sporting. 

“Shove it, Malfoy!” 

“No fighting!” The Frenchie clucked and then turned back towards the group. “Let us play zis game of Panzy’s! Sounds fun; I never get to play games.” 

“Okay!” Pansy scooted forward and clapped her hands excitedly together. “The rules are simple: when it’s your turn you say something you’ve _ never _ done. If people in the circle _ have _ done it, they have to drink.” 

“Well, you have to eat a Bertie Bott, love.” Potter chuckled and took the candy from his mate, causing Pansy to pout. 

“Fine. I’ll start. Never have I ever… slept in Gryffindor Tower.” 

“Cheap shot!” Potter accused, pinching her side and earning one of those very _ Pansy _ laughs. The Gryffindors, as well as Looney, drank. 

Potter next. “Never have I ever… slept in Slytherin dungeon.” 

“Merlin,” Draco groaned, draining his drink and then disentangling himself from Granger’s body. Setting down his tumbler, he reached for his wand and summoned an entire bottle of Ogdens and placed it in front of him. “I’m going to need this with the way you fucking Hufflepuffs are playing.” 

The whisky had started to make his cheeks flush and his hands itch, and in a brazen move of sheer Gryffindor tenacity, he lifted Granger from where she sat and settled her in the corner of the couch so that her legs were draped over his thighs. It earned a delightful little yelp and a blush. Draco threw her his slyest wink, then poured them both a healthy serving of whisky and settled back into his spot under her legs, one hand laid lazily over her knees. 

Looney’s turn next. She said something entirely unintelligible about an imaginary animal, but Longbottom actually spiced it up a bit. 

“Never have I ever been caught in a compromising position at Hogwarts.” 

Pansy’s gaze shot to Draco’s, and they shared in a not so private chuckle before he took a drink, and she popped a suspicious looking green bean between her lips. Potter drank, as did Weasley… Luna too… but it was Granger, in all her sly little movements from the corner of his eye, sneaking a drink that made him pause. 

“Granger?” he teased, raising a brow. 

Adorably, she hacked on her whisky at having being caught and wiped the spit from her lip with a fierce blush. “_ What? _” 

“Who?” 

“The other big blond mistake of her life,” Weasley said under his breath, and Draco’s gaze shot dangerously towards him. 

“It was Cormac Mclaggen, and he was an awful kisser with wandering hands, and it was a one-time—” Potter cleared his throat, and Granger pursed her lips to keep from laughing and reached across Draco to grab a pillow and chuck it at Harry’s head. “Fine! Since the game is in a spirit of honesty… three-time mistake.” 

“_ THREE TIMES!” _Weasley and Draco exclaimed in unison. 

“Shut up! The lot of you! I have enough dirty laundry for the majority of you here, in case you forget.” She was an adorable little lion cub, stalking around petulantly, and Draco had to actively stop himself from snatching her up in a kiss and fucking her into the sofa cushions. Probably would be breaching the invisible boundaries of the weekend though, and it would undoubtedly earn him a one way Portkey back to London, so he begrudgingly refrained. 

Weasley’s ugly face flattened, and he coughed into his palm and screwed his features up in thought. A wicked grin formed over his thin lips, and he turned towards Granger. “I’ve never fucked a Slytherin.” 

Oh, how he wanted to punch this prat’s teeth in. He didn’t even need magic. He would love to unleash his hatred on him Muggle-style. Draco turned his gaze to the pretty girl in his lap and offered her a small smile as her cheeks flamed to life, and she shrank in on herself. What kind of jackarse would ever make Hermione Granger feel small? 

In his peripheral vision, Pansy chomped down on a bean and made a disgusted face as Harry tipped his drink to his lips as well. _Fuck it all. _

“Aren’t you going to drink, Malfoy?” Weasley was fucking goading him, and as Draco tipped the rest of his firewhisky back, he turned to stare at his one time rival. Not anymore. Ron Weasley was little more than a speed bump in Granger’s romantic past. 

“My turn.” Draco grinned. “Never have I ever cheated on a significant other.” 

There shouldn’t be such a joyous delight in watching Weasley turn crimson. Really, there shouldn’t. Alas, there was, and Draco raised a brow in a challenge. The ugly fool’s teeth jammed together, the tendons of his jaw protruding in lovely show of his fury, and Draco couldn’t help but smirk. 

The catch was Draco knew he’d cheated on Granger. Knew it because he’d walked in on it himself at the Leaky when Ron had the barkeep pressed against a bathroom stall. Ron managed a drink—the only in the group to do so—even though it looked like it cause him great pain to do so, and Draco chuckled. 

However, there was a strange tension spreading throughout the room, and he suddenly felt the very tense body still perched over him. _ Fuck. _ In his insatiable need to make the fool of Weasley, he forgot that it in turn made the fool of his own witch. He sucked in a harsh breath as Hermione slid her legs from over his. 

“I’m tired,” she said quickly, setting down her drink and rising to her feet. 

Draco’s eyes closed in horror fueled anguish. What had he done? “_ Granger _—” 

“See you all in the morning,” she said with a tight smile and then slipped from the room in tiny, quick steps. 

Once the door had closed behind her, Draco buried his face in his palms and let out a low groan. 

“Nice one, Malfoy.” Ron let out a loud laugh and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. 

XXXXX

Her feet could not carry her quick enough up the stairs, and as soon as she was safely inside her room she rushed to the balcony and sucked in greedy breaths of air. It wasn’t like it was Malfoy’s fault; Ron was the one who cheated on her. But having it laid out in front of perfect Gabrielle Delacour and the rest of her happily paired off friends didn’t exactly make her warm and fuzzy inside. 

She and Ron were young and had absolutely no business being together anyway; it’d been over for months before Ron had kissed that barmaid. But that night had been the nail in the coffin. 

“Granger?” Malfoy’s voice called from the door, and she couldn’t help but smile at the nervous edge to his voice. 

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m okay.” 

A few moments later, he was leaning against the railing, staring back into the room with all the humility of a scolded puppy. “I’m going to say something that I very rarely say…” Hermione’s breath hitched, ready for… well, ready for things she shouldn’t be ready for. “I’m sorry.” 

“S’not your fault,” she said with a quiet sniffle. “Not like _ you _ cheated on me.” 

“Any man who would is a bloody fool. 

Letting go of a wry chuckle, Hermione turned towards him with a small smile. “They’re all rather annoying, aren’t they?”

“Very.”

Her genuine laugh filled the air, and she turned to face the same direction and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, now you know why I always sit in your shitty little office for lunch. It’s them or you, and somewhere along the way you became the less painful option.” 

Turning her face up to his, she was sobered by the intensity in his silver gaze, and her breaths turned deep and purposeful as she studied the sharp planes of his face from this proximity. His gaze travelled slowly over her face, resting for the briefest of moments on her parted lips, and when she sucked in a nervous breath, the trance broke. Blinking a few times, they both stared into the room in front of them. 

“So, I can transfigure the chaise into a bed and sleep there,” she offered half-heartedly. “After all, you’re doing me the favor.” 

Malfoy rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “Nah. What kind of gentleman would I be to let the birthday girl sleep on a transfigured sofa. You take the bed.” 

Hermione’s mouth ran dry as an alternative sprung to mind. “The bed is huge.” She waved dismissively. “I’m adult enough to share a bed with you if you are.” 

The corner of Malfoy’s lips quirked, and a soft, amused huff escaped him. “I am.” 

XXXXX

It didn’t matter what she wore to bed; she _ knew _that. Of course she did. Still, she stared at her options for far too long, so long that it was probably getting suspicious as to why she was spending such a long time in the bathroom. 

She settled on her most modest option, which had still been specifically curated to be as sexy as possible without being overtly so. It was a plain tank top and shorts, and after washing her face and tying her hair up in a hasty knot, she peeked out the bathroom door. 

Malfoy looked as nervous as she felt, though she’d no idea why. It’s not like she was going to attack him in his sleep or anything. Quietly, she padded across the floor, ignoring Malfoy’s stare as she crawled under the duvet and settled in. She wasn’t close enough, no where near as close as she would like, but he was here. After an awkward moment of staring up at the ceiling in shared silence with him, she grabbed a spare pillow and hugged it to her body, turning on her side to face him. 

She gulped. “Goodnight, Malfoy.” 

“Night, Granger,” he breathed. The sharp point in his throat bobbed slowly in a deliberate swallow. 

She forced her eyes closed, imagining she could feel his body heat from inches away. 

**XXXXX**

**Final two chapters tomorrow for my dear friend and alpha, MCal. Thank you all so much for the incredible response to this story! Glad to know you all love the tropey good stuff as much as I do. **

**Forever thanks to my beta, Ravenslight. You are a gem amongst gems. **

  
  
  



	3. Three

Draco woke to the sound of his roommate, for lack of a better term, with her face mere inches from his. Merlin, she was breathtaking. Maybe even more so whilst sleeping, her lips parted and her curls wild and scattered across her pillow. 

Then there were the more… primal things to notice. The long column of her throat, the swell of her breasts beneath her thin shirt, and the heat that pulsed between them. She was so painstakingly close he could reach out to brush his fingers against her jaw, maybe push the curls from her forehead…

Her brow puckered, lips twitching, and Draco quickly rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes, lest he be caught leering at the witch like a pervert. Next to him, the mattress shifted as she let out a loud yawn and left the bed. He rolled onto his side, watching as she discarded her tank top through the sliver in the door. 

Draco’s mouth ran dry as the barely-there curve of the side of her breast came into view while she fussed with her hair and then moved from sight. He would worry about an erection, except that he was fairly certain he’d been sporting one since last night. With a pained growl, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. 

After a few long moments, Granger emerged, dressed and ready for the day. He continued to “sleep,” or so she thought, and he was surprised that she seemed to pause at the door. He managed to peer through his lashes and find her staring back at him with an unreadable expression. 

Merlin, he was so fucked. 

XXXXX

Down in the kitchen, Hermione was surprised that she was not the first one to rise. Seated around the island and filling their plates with the chef-prepared breakfast were Harry and Ron. Their girlfriends thankfully were missing. 

“The birthday girl!” Harry shouted, tipping his pumpkin juice in her direction with a grin. 

“Not yet! I still have one more day in my twenties; don’t wish it away.”

Ron made an unintelligible sound as half chewed eggs rolled around his mouth. “Aren’t you being a little overly sensitive? Thirty is just another year! Tomorrow you’ll still be the same person you were today.” 

His flippant attitude caused her vision to twinge crimson, and she grabbed a coffee mug with perhaps too much zeal. “You say this because you’re twenty-nine and in a serious committed relationship. I, on the other hand, am thirty with a cat.”

“You have Malfoy,” Harry said with a snide enunciation. 

Hermione blinked a few times, freezing as she lifted a cube of sugar over her steaming cup. With a thick swallow, she released it and turned back towards her friends. “Yes, well as I said, it’s rather new, and you know, I’d rather not put the cart before the thestral, so to speak.”

“I thought Oliver had put up a solid effort? And then there was that other bloke too. What was his name?” Harry asked, his brows perched high.

Hermione groaned, leaning against the counter and cradling her mug between her palms. “It doesn’t matter; they were droll.”

“And Malfoy is what? I just never thought you’d fall for someone like him, Hermione.” Ron waved his fork absently in her direction. “You know, he’s just so… so…”

A surge of protectiveness swelled and crashed in her chest, and her lips puckered into a tight pout. “I’ll have you know that Draco Malfoy is a wonderful man. He’s quietly thoughtful and well read. Not to mention he has interests outside a Quidditch pitch and can hold a conversation about art, or the theater, or current events. Not to mention he’s handsome and well rounded. You two are just too pig headed to see past schoolyard grievances.” 

Her friends stared at her with slack jaws and pinched brows. Harry leaned closer into Ron. “Maybe he’s slipped her a potion.” 

“Can’t rule out the Imperious curse either, mate. Maybe we should check her—”

Hermione threw an exasperated hand in the air and growled in their direction. “You two are impossible.”

“Good morning!” Pansy chirped, entering the room with a hand on her tummy and looking as though she’d had an entire team out to handle her hair and makeup before dawn. 

“Bonjour! Oh ‘ze food looks divine!” Gabrielle strolled in like a stream of moonlight, her buttercream dress swirling around her knees and her icy blond hair falling in loose waves over her shoulder. 

Hermione barely stifled a groan as the witches found their wizards and greeted them with quick, sweet kisses on the cheek. “Anyone seen Luna and Neville?” She managed through a tight jaw. 

“Well, zey might be sleeping in.” A trickle of girlish giggles slipped from Gabrielle’s lips, and Ron looked at her as if the sun was shining for the first time in months. Disgusting. “You could zay zey ‘ad a late night?”

Ron snorted and pulled his girlfriend closer. “That’s an understatement. Silencing charms are now required for the rest of the time we are in this house.” 

The conversation quieted as Harry placed a palm over Pansy’s, speaking to her in low ,hushed tones with a smile playing on his lips. Ron’s mouth, however, had found a home in the crook of Gabrielle’s neck and was tickling her with his stubble as she giggled and wrapped her slender arms around his neck. 

“There you are.” Draco’s voice startled her but before she could gather a proper thought about his sudden, shirtless appearance, he was backing her into the counter and cradling her jaw between his hands. With a gentle touch and a smug smirk, he captured her lips with his. She couldn’t help but sink into his touch as his impossibly soft lips moved firmly against hers. 

She felt the sinful brush of his tongue against her lip, and she let out a low moan, her hands falling to his chiseled torso and pulling him harder against her. Pausing only to let out a throaty chuckle, one hand dipped to her lower back, and she arched into his touch, letting her hands wander up the broad planes of his chest. 

“Oi! You two are going to make me lose my fucking breakfast; let her breathe, Malfoy.” 

His lips left hers, and she swallowed the little whimper that wanted to be heard as he caught his bottom lip between his perfect teeth and smirked down at her. “You sleep okay?” he asked quietly. 

Words failed her spectacularly. Her eyes were trained on his half naked body pressed against hers, all long lean muscle and perfectly pale skin littered with silvery scars; her fingers stretched and flexed over the trim curve of his hips as she nodded. 

“Good.” He dipped his mouth onto hers once more, this time with far less impatient passion and then turned to throw an around her waist and stare at the others in the room, his features falling. “Oh, you’re all here too. Brilliant.” 

Harry and Gabrielle wore matching shocked expressions; Ron’s mouth was curled in a disgusted scowl, fork still halfway up to his mouth, but it was Pansy who surprised Hermione most. Her dark eyes held a knowing sparkle, and she looked very much like she was trying to hide a smile. 

The entire room jumped and startled at Neville and Luna’s appearance, noses bumping and soft, secret nothings being whispered back and forth. They looked up at the same time, sensing the tension. 

“Did we miss something?” Neville asked nervously, his cheeks flushing light pink. Hermione couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her as Malfoy shook in laughter at her side, curling his arm around her so she could hide in his embrace. 

The morning passed quietly into afternoon. She was currently settled between Draco’s thighs on a long outdoor sofa on the porch outside the sitting room, a well-loved book open on her thighs and Draco’s chin resting on her shoulder. The vibrant leaves were falling lazily to the earth every time a soft breeze filtered through the air and even though the moment was wholly orchestrated and in no way real, it was lovely. 

So lovely that she dozed off against his chest, breathing in the warming scents of cedar from the fire pit and sandalwood on his jumper. 

XXXXX

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. Didn’t matter in the slightest. Hermione Granger was nestled against his chest and sleeping, and he was free to wrap his arms tightly around her and breathe in the smell of her hair. 

Nothing else mattered. 

And when she shifted and curled in his lap, rubbing her cheek against his wool jumper, he couldn’t help but grin. Things between them just felt so bloody natural. Maybe he’d counted himself out too soon; maybe he might be able to make her see that he wasn’t the absolute worst choice around. Things had been going well; and that kiss... Merlin that kiss. His cock twitched at the memory, and he screwed his features up, trying to think of just about anything to stop from bringing forth a raging erection against Granger’s hip while she slept. 

Granger shifted once more, yawning softly and sitting up. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her again and pull her back down to stay awhile, but a heated blush coloured her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled sleepily. “I must have dozed off. That’s probably outside the realm of appropriate fake dating relationships.” 

Something unfamiliar panged in his chest, and he offered her a half-hearted smirk. “No worries, Granger. Your curls only attempted to smother me once, and the rest of it wasn’t all that bad.” 

Chuckling, she swatted at him and disentangled herself from him. “We should get ready for dinner. I think the other girls wanted to explore the town a bit before.” 

“I’ll go and shower, then.” Slapping his thighs lightly, Draco rose and gave her a tight smile before disappearing inside. He’d not made it more than halfway through the front sitting room before Potter’s accusing tone startled him. 

“You two looked cozy.” 

“Nothing slips past you Potter.” Draco kept walking even as Potter rushed to his feet, stepping around him and stopping Malfoy in his tracks. It was actually quite comical, Potter being as short as he was and trying to intimidate him. 

“It’s just strange is all. I’ve been Hermione’s friend nearly two decades now, and I like to think I know her pretty well.” 

“Bully for you, mate.” Draco dried to step around him, but when Potter matched his step, he let out a loud groan. “What do you want? Want to give me the old shake down? I’m not here for it, Potter. Piss off.”

“I just want to know what’s going on between you two because something is off. Hermione has told me about every first date, the good, bad, and ugly, since she and Ron broke it off. I’ve sat with her on the sofa at Grimmauld all too many times as she rehashed the blokes who have tried to win her heart and yet nothing about you. Suspicious, isn’t it?”

Narrowing his eyes, Draco stepped into Potter’s space, leering down at him. “Seems to me like you might be too busy to notice these days, Potter. You and Pansy are so self involved you don’t see her at all. You don’t see anything that’s not yourself, just like always. Granger is not a footnote in your story; stop treating her like one.” 

Shoving his shoulder hard into Potter’s, he stomped past him and up the stairs, his fingers flexing into fists as magic sparked off his fingertips. 

XXXXX

Hermione really did need to go and get ready, but the Autumn chill was perfect, and the blanket was so warm… she thought she might sit a minute yet. Her fingers travelled up to her lips, hovering over them as she remembered the feeling of his lips moving against hers. A quiet smile pulled at the corner of her lips and was quickly interrupted by a looming shadow from the far side of the deck. 

“Hello,” Pansy greeted. She was friendly enough this weekend, but there was always something slithering underneath her sweet facade that just rubbed Hermione the wrong way. No interaction was simple. There was always an ulterior motive. 

“Pansy,” Hermione breathed in way of greeting. “Feeling okay? I hear the first trimester can be a bit rough.” 

“Well enough.” That mischievous, knowing glint returned to her gaze, and she crossed the deck to lean against the bannister in front of Hermione. “I’m so happy for you and Draco.” 

Hermione gulped. “Thank you.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Pansy waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “I’m not an idiot, you know? Clearly you’ve fooled the Gryffindors and Gabby, but not me. You see, I know Draco pretty well.”

“I’m well aware that you guys dated as children, Pansy. If this is some ridiculous territorial interaction, can we skip it?”

“Ah, but that’s not what this is. You see, I know Draco, and I know he’s had a chubby for you since the Yule Ball. So if he was dating you, I would have heard about it.” Granger’s cheeks flamed, her lips pursing tightly as she looked quickly away from the Slytherin across from her. “So this led me to the most obvious deduction that you were uncomfortable with the couples on this trip and decided to take advantage of Draco’s feelings for you and invite him along.”

Hermoine’s gaze darted quickly, nervously, to Pansy, who was sporting an all too familiar smirk. “But then,” Pansy continued, “that seems far too cunning for you. Which leads me to think you may have invited him because you like him too.”

Too. A simple little three letter word that sparked a dangerous hope in Hermione’s chest as her heart frantically thrashed inside. 

“See, I’ve seen the way Draco looks at girls he’s only pretending to like. You may have forgotten, but he looked at me like that for three years.” Pansy’s voice changed, drenched in a teenage sadness that Hermione knew all too well. 

“I’m sorry—”

“Oh, hush,” Pansy said with a shrug. “I’m madly in love with the hero of the Wizarding World and carrying his child. Trust me, all’s well that ends well, but that doesn’t change the fact that he looks at you much differently. And I think the two of you are playing a ridiculous game, and it’s annoying to watch, so you should stop.” 

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes playfully. “Thanks, Pansy. Your insight is always enlightening. I need to go get ready for dinner.”

Rising to her feet and tossing the blanket across the cushions, she’d nearly made it to the door before Pansy called out a final time. “He’s patient—Draco, that is. He’ll wait for you, but I wouldn’t make him too much longer. It’s getting quite boring, him pining after you.”

Pulling a face, Hermione swept inside, ignoring the happy feeling chasing her. 

XXXXX

Hermione adjusted the strap on her dress, fussing with her cleavage and her hair a final time before turning for the main room. She’d chosen her red dress, the one with the full circle skirt and the fitted bodice that made her feel feminine and, well, pretty. Which was a rare thing for Hermione to feel. 

As she walked from the bathroom, she paused to slip her black pumps on and nearly fell to the ground. Malfoy was shrugging on his jacket, and she lost all thought. The crisp charcoal Oxford under his jacket was unbuttoned a little, and his trousers were perfectly tailored to him. He smirked in that very Malfoy way that made her stomach flop and held his arm out for her. 

“Ready?” 

With a heavy breath and a nod, she circled his arm with hers, and they walked from the room. 

“You look good, Granger.” His voice was low and almost… nervous, and Hermione bit down on her lip to keep from smiling too brightly. 

“You too, Malfoy.”

XXXXX

Dinner was delicious; they ate a fancy little restaurant in town, right in front of the giant windows that showcased the comings and goings of the people on the walk outside. The amount of wine poured during the meal was obscene, and by the time the plates were cleared, all eight of them were laughing loudly, doubled over the fine linens at a joke Hermione could scarcely remember. 

Malfoy whispered something to the waitress, and moments later two—very expensive—bottles of chilled champagne appeared at the table. 

Hermione hiccuped and leaned over to him, resting her palm on his thigh as her lips hovered over his ear. “Do you think you really ought to keep feeding this lot alcohol? Trust me, they only get worse.” 

With a bright peal of genuine laughter, Malfoy’s hand came to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her in for a surprisingly sweet kiss before staring back at her with that molten intensity he seemed so fond of lately. They poured the champagn, and each of them lifted their glasses.

“To Gr—erm, Hermione.” The way he said her name made her sink into her plush chair, and she swallowed the grin that threatened to take over her features. “Your last night in your twenties, and I can’t believe you want to spend it with me. Thirty looks good on you, and if you’re half as successful in the next thirty, then Merlin help us all. Happy birthday.”

Hermione flushed brilliantly and took a demure sip of her champagne as her friends all echoed, “To Hermione.”

A quiet chatter fell over the table, and Hermione swung her knees toward Malfoy, resting her elbow on the back of the chair with a smile. Behind her, the house band picked up into a brighter song, one with a melody made for dancing. 

“Have I properly thanked you for this weekend yet?” 

“Not properly.” He waggled his eyebrows and drained his champagne flute before standing and offering his hand to her. Somewhere around the fourth round of wine for the table, he’d shed his dinner jacket and rolled his sleeves halfway up his arms. Now all she could do was stare at the dusting of blonde hair on his muscular forearms and gulp. “Let’s dance.” 

“No, no, no. Merlin, I could barely put my feet in the right direction when I was half this age and sober, I can’t imagine now.” 

“Do it anyway.” Something flashed in his pale eyes, and his mouth twitched into a smile. 

Swallowing thickly, she placed her fingers in his palm and rose slowly to her feet. “I’m really awful at this.” 

“That’s alright; I’m not.” Side stepping the few couples twirling on the tiny dance floor, Malfoy pulled her into his arms and began a slow, purposeful circle.

After a songs length of silence, Hermione peeked up at him with narrowed eyes. “You were right, by the way.” 

“I normally am.” 

“You’re good at his. Making people believe we’re together—way better than me.” It was dangerous to bring it up. After all, she was quite enjoying the theatrics of his performance and pretending that it was real, even if only for a few days. But the wine and champagne had loosened her tongue, and she hoped, vainly, that it might open its way for a confession of sorts. 

His gaze moved slowly over her features, but as his lips parted, a shrill shriek filled the air. 

“Zo’ mi Merlin! Oui! Oui, oui, oui.” 

Both of them peered through the crowd and as her eyes locked on Ron, down on one knee and offering a small velvet box towards Gabrielle, her hands fell away from Malfoy’s, and her jaw dropped. 

“That fucking idiot,” Malfoy snarled from over her shoulder. 

XXXXX

It’s your birthday where you are! I love you, sweet friend. 

Thank you, Ravenslight for your eyes and brain. I’d be surely lost without you!

  
  



	4. Four

Hermione offered quiet congratulations, smiling in all the right places and nodding along as Gabrielle showed off her ring and Ron beamed proudly at her side. It wasn’t like she was surprised; such a thing was to be expected with how sickeningly in love the two of them were. And she found that despite him being her best friend and ex-boyfriend, she didn’t mind all that much.

Sure, the timing was shite, but when had Ronald ever boasted good timing? 

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the cabin, Hermione made a quick excuse about a wine-headache and slipped upstairs, ignoring the pitying stare from Pansy alongside Harry’s pleas to hang around a bit. Malfoy lingered behind, probably nervous about the near catatonic state she currently found herself in. 

Once inside their room, she shed the pretty dress she’d worn to dinner and wrapped herself in a cotton robe. She made a stop by the drink cart, snagging the whisky, and then made it onto the large balcony overlooking the forest. 

She stared, unseeing, for some time, pausing only to take small sips of whisky. Merlin, everything had gotten out of hand and now, when she had to admit to her friends that Malfoy wasn’t actually her new boyfriend and instead just her co-worker who she had bribed into spending the weekend with her, she would have new shame to contend with. 

Footstops crossing the deck caught her attention, and she turned towards the newcomer with a vacant expression, letting out a relieved breath when it wasn’t Ron. 

“Granger,” Malfoy drawled, taking the spot next to her at the railing, “didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s sad to drink alone?” 

“Yeah, well—” She shrugged, unable to form any other coherent thoughts and took another drink before proffering it to him. He took it and drank as well, making a small sad turn of his lips after. 

“I’m sorry your friend is a moron.” 

That earned him a laugh, and she turned to face into their large suite with an honest to goodness smile. “That he is. Honestly, I don’t really care that he’s marrying her. It’s not all that surprising.”

“He could have waited a week.”

“Ah, he could have. But then how else could this weekend be dragged into the lowest circle of hell?”

Malfoy’s face canted towards her, and his eyes tightened for a flash of a moment. “I thought you didn’t care?” 

“Not about them, not really. It’s more…” Hermione paused, trying to name the emotions coursing through her. “I feel so behind. And it’s not something I’m used to feeling. I was always first, always oldest, the most clever, first to finish everything. Now, Harry and Pansy are having a baby, and Ron and Gabrielle are getting married. Neville and Luna are enjoying their honeymoon phase so much that I’ve barely spoken two words to them all weekend—honestly, I forgot they were here.” 

Groaning, Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and snagged the liquor from Malfoy. “I’m just me. Single and spending my weekends avoiding my friends because they are all so bloody happy that I can’t stand to be around the lot of them. Bugging you to pretend to be my boyfriend and eat lunch with me…  _ Oh! _ And I’m thirty.”

“Wow,” Malfoy breathed, shaking his head. “What an utter load of unicorn shite.” 

“ _ Excuse me?” _

“Buck up, you’re Hermione Granger! You could have settled for any number of wizards by now, but you didn’t. And that’s not because you weren’t good enough but because you know your fucking worth. You know that any man who has yet crossed your path isn’t worth the effort. You’ll find him, and it’ll be worth it then.” 

Something twisted painfully in her belly, and she looked up at Malfoy with a trembling jaw. Her lips parted, and she was  _ so close _ to just bloody saying it… but wouldn’t it just be right that his rejection of her would be the coup de grâce on this train wreck of a weekend? 

Instead, she turned her stare elsewhere and gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.” 

XXXXX

An hour passed, and Granger finally began to loosen up. Whether it was the whisky or the wine, she was laughing, curled up in the opposite corner of the sofa on the balcony with her hair tossed to one side and her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. The side of her robe had slid open and was creeping up her thigh, and it took all of Merlin’s good graces to keep him from reaching out to palm her flesh. 

“So,” she managed between fits of laughter, “you’re really not the most eligible bachelor of Wizarding London then?” 

Draco responded with a snort. “I most definitely am, I assure you. I just am not the man whore the papers make me out to be; I buy them dinner and then send them on their way.” 

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her legs and studying him like he was some unknown ancient rune she needed to decipher. “Why? You could presumably date any of them or save your Galleons altogether.” 

And what could he say to that?  _ Well, Granger, at first I just wanted to get your attention, and now it’s wholly out of hand. I just wanted to make you jealous.  _ Yeah, not bloody likely. The plans had backfired anyway. 

He turned towards her, his arm stretched towards her on the back of the sofa, his lips curling up on one side weakly. “Guess loneliness isn’t exclusive to Gryffindors, eh?” 

Instantly, her features pinched, and she looked… sad. Great. She pitied him. Exactly how every bloke wanted Hermione Granger to feel about him. She sucked her cheek between her teeth and gnawed on the corner of her lip for a moment before smiling down at her knees. 

“I’m kind of happy to hear that.” 

His heart ceased to beat, skipping exactly three pumps before resuming in a desperate, frantic pace. 

“I have to admit I was always a little jealous of those pretty little twits on your arm.” Her chocolate gaze found his, deep pools of terrifying emotion that seemed to sear through him. 

Draco gulped. “Why?”

“It’s stupid.” She laughed wryly, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Just a silly crush.” 

_ Crush. _ The words were there, laid out plainly for him. But they didn’t make sense… she didn’t mean it. Maybe it was some elaborate prank set on by the twatheads and her to get him up here and full of hope just to slice him open and leave him bleeding. 

“Granger,” he breathed, his voice low and husky and nearly unrecognizable. “If you’re trying to say something, I need you to speak to me like an idiot and lay it out plainly for me. I can’t misinterpret any signals or risk whatever it is we’ve so precariously built between us these last few years. So, if you—” His throat felt hot and gravely, and he swallowed until it felt like sand coating his airways. 

With a huff and roll of her eyes, she shook her head. “It’s stupid. Like you and I— like we’d ever…” 

She hadn’t yet said it, but he was done waiting. There was something in the nervous titter about her and the way she kept fussing with her hair and avoiding looking right at him, like she hadn’t looked him square in the eye last week and called him a rotten prat. He moved with purpose, catching his hands on the arm rest behind her as he crashed into her, finding her lips with ease and tasting her like he hadn’t allowed himself all weekend, because this time it was  _ real _ .

There was a moment of brief hesitation, when he was sure that her eyes were wide and round and terrified of him. He braced himself to be shoved off and hexed, quite possibly permanently maimed, but it never came. Her knees fell open—thank Merlin for that—and her hands rested on his hips pulling Draco flush against her as she arched up and into his body. One hand moved to tangle in her hair, turning her face to meet his so he could press his tongue between her lips. His bold exploration earned a gasp, and he nipped her bottom lip before moving the hand in her hair down to her hip. 

“Tell me when to stop,” he mumbled against her lips. She remained silent as his hand worked its way to the flesh of her bum. “Granger, you’ve got to tell me when—”

She growled. She  _ actually _ growled at him and shoved him off, and for the briefest of moments a sharp pang of disappointment lanced through him. But before it could grow any further, she was swinging her leg over his and gripping his face between her palms.  _ Gryffindor. _ It was all he needed, Merlin, it was all he _ wanted. _ He gently pulled on the tie of her robe, pushing it from her shoulders, and she gasped as the cool air kissed her skin. 

Draco wasted no time in gliding his palms over every inch of her that he could; his hands never stopped moving, never stopped memorizing. His lips moved to the long column of her throat and to the curve of her breast. Her back arched into him, pressing her down onto his cock, and his groan was muffled only by where his mouth was pressed into her skin. 

“Draco,” she breathed, and he was undone. Moving up to capture her perfect mouth once again, he curled one hand in the ringlets at the base of her neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

Her confession shot through him, and his free hand grasped her waist, pinning her to him as he stood, moving them through the grand doors and back into the suite. They fell in a heap of limbs and wild curls, their remaining clothes shed in frantic tugs and tossed to the floor. 

Peppering kisses up the inside of her thigh, his mouth latched onto her sex, alternating between firm laves and quick flicks until her thighs were tightening around his ears and her lower back arched off the mattress. As the final spasms of her orgasm trembled through her he crawled up her body, sinking inside her in a swift buck of his hips. They moved together effortlessly, her fingers coiling in the hair at the nape of his neck and tugging him impossibly closer. Draco had imagined this moment countless times, and it still was nowhere close to the euphoria he was experiencing. As the room filled with soft breathy noises, his hips stuttered, and he buried his face in the crook of his neck. 

His body shook through the last of his orgasm while her nails trailed up and down his back, and her lips pressed small kisses over his trembling shoulders. 

“Granger,” he breathed, rolling off her and falling with a huff next to her. “I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. This can just be… what it was. It’s okay—”

“It’s quite possible I’m in love with you and have been for some time,” he interrupted her, rolling up on his elbow to stare at her with a smirk, relishing in the sheer disbelief painted over her features. “I have spent the last handful of years just trying to get you to bloody look my way, and when you started lurking outside my office with your sad cold lunches but ignored all of my advances to claim your attention, it infuriated me.”

“ _ What?” _

Draco reached over, using a featherlight touch to tip her face towards him. “Why did you ask me to come with you? Because if it was just to make that arsehole jealous, I can swallow that.” 

“Draco.” She grinned, her eyes misting in the dim light as she cuddled into his side. “I was pulling out all my Slytherin stops to get you here and hoping you might see me as more than  _ me.”  _

A soft snort escaped him, and he hovered his lips over hers. “You’re everything, Granger.” 

XXXXX

Hermione was sure she fell asleep at some point. But it was merely to regain some needed strength before Draco worshiped every inch of her again… and again. 

When she looked down at herself she only saw her imperfections, the flaws that had made her unlovable all this time. But he kissed—and licked—each doubt away. She woke with his head between her thighs, and her hands rushed to tangle in his sloppy hair, her nails dragging along his scalp as he pushed his tongue inside her. 

She let out a wild scream, long since having stopped giving a shite who heard, and her thighs tightened around his ears as his tongue slid up to her throbbing clit. Two fingers pushed delightfully inside her, curling and pumping as another orgasm coursed through her, tingling from her centre down to her toes and then fluttering up into her chest. 

Her thighs fell apart, and he gave a final soft sweep to her sex with a wide tongue, earning a shiver as he crawled up and pressed against her entrance with his cock. 

“How can you— _ ohhhh?”  _ Her words were cut short as he pressed slowly inside her, pausing only to bump his nose against hers and slide his tongue inside her mouth. When the kiss broke, he pulled back and repeated his languid movements. “It should not be humanly possible for you to…” 

Warm lips wrapped around her nipple as one hand gripped the flesh of her arse. He grinned against her breast and peeked up at with her a devilish smirk. “Perks of being in my twenties, Granger. I told you there was another stop before spinster; you’ve officially lured a younger man into your bed.” 

Her lips fell open to chastise him, but he had pulled out of her, and before she could think of a proper retort, he gripped her hips and flipped her swiftly onto her belly. Sliding between her thighs and finding her sex with ease, he began a more persistent thrust, and she arched her back, lifting her bum off the mattress and offering a new angle. 

Soft noises filled her ear as his breath fanned over her, tickling her cheek. His arms caged all around her as he pushed inside her again and again until he was stiffening and moaning into her neck. 

There was a brief respite when he softened inside her and laid out a trail of kisses over her freckled shoulders, and she could catch her breath. But the moment was quickly shattered by a sharp rap of knuckles against the door. 

Draco jumped, sliding from inside her and scrambling next to her. “Merlin, can’t they hear we’re busy?” 

“Shite!” Hermione’s face burned with her embarrassment, and she pressed her face into the pillows. 

“Hermione! Come out of there!” Ron called loudly and she could hear Harry’s soft reprimand follow just after. 

With a loud groan she got up from the bed and found the robe that had been so hastily discarded hours prior. As she reached for the handle, she sucked in a fortifying breath and tilted her chin up in the most Hermione way possible. 

On the other side of the door was a very unamused Ron and a very abashed Harry who couldn’t look up at her. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you know what time it is?” Ron asked, a brow lifted haughtily. 

Hermione’s face screwed up in thought. “Um, maybe eight?”

“It’s half ten! We’re here for  _ you _ r birthday, and you can’t leave your little love nest to say hello?” Ron’s face was pulled into a grimace, his hands braced hard on his hips as he stared at her with a look that she recognized as his cue for extreme hunger. 

“I’m sorry, okay? It  _ is _ my birthday after all; I thought having a lie in would be appropriate,” Hermione said cooly. 

A watery snort from Ron and a choked noise from Harry made her eyes go wide. “We know what you were doing,” Ron deadpanned. “The entire bloody house could hear you lot all night.” 

An enraged blush bloomed on her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears as her lips parted to give Ron Weasley a piece of her mind. But before she could, the door behind her swung further open and Malfoy stepped forward in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Merlin!” Harry exclaimed, covering his eyes with both hands. “Put your cock away, Malfoy!”

“Listen up, twatheads. You two have done a spectacular job of ruining Granger’s birthday thus far, truly. I can’t think of a single way you two could make it any worse, so congratulations on a job well done. I speak on behalf of the birthday girl when I impolitely ask you to vacate the residence  _ immediately  _ so that I may spend the rest of the day making it up to her.” 

Hermione stared at Malfoy, a grin curling up her features as he spoke. 

Harry stepped forward. “That’s not happening, Malfoy. She’s our best friend and—”

“Fine.” Malfoy shrugged, turning to scoop Granger up so that she was bent over his shoulder. She yelped, a quick laugh following as she batted at his thinly veiled bum. “Then stay, but I have no intention of silencing this room or letting her out for meals that can’t be eaten off her body—”

“Merlin, fuck, Malfoy!” Ron groaned and brought his hands up to his ears. 

Malfoy carried her back through the room, kicking the door shut in the boys’ face and tossing her playfully on the bed. Staring down at her while she giggled, his face pulled up into a smirk. “Now, where were we, birthday girl?”

  
  


XXXXX

Welp, that’s the last of it. Hope you enjoy your birthday, MCal! You shower our fandom and your friends with such love and joy and it is a brighter place because you ship it. All of my love forever! 

LK

Thank you again, Ravenslight. You’re a queen!

  
  



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